


Facing These Fears

by Emery



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emery/pseuds/Emery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hours before the dreaded battle with the Colterons that everyone is calling a suicide mission, Keeler finds himself at his wit's end. At least when he breaks, he's not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facing These Fears

Everyone says it’s a war they won’t be able to win, that this battle is a suicide mission and there will be no survivors. Even if the navigators on Cook’s special task team are successful and can complete the design and installation of the new engine configurations for every single fighter, a task nearly impossible in itself given their limited time frame, there’s still no guarantee that the Alliance will come out on top. In fact, it’s the farthest thing from a guarantee for success. The only guarantee here is for failure.

And yet the Sleipnir’s head navigator is only three hours away from climbing into his fighter and flying right into his own death, right into a Colteron trap. It feels wrong, empty, and he wonders what the point of everything is if the outcome is only nothing. He thinks of all the years he spent preparing for this moment, all the time spent in the libraries and laboratories and academies. He thinks of how quickly he progressed up in the ranks, how Commander Cook liked him so much from the beginning, told Keeler he had potential and skills the likes of which he’d never seen. He thinks of how all of these things will mean nothing in only a matter of hours, how the only thing that will hold any weight in his life will be his desperate need to survive unbeatable odds.

But most of all, Keeler thinks of Encke.

He remembers when they had first been assigned together and how they didn’t think that they could get along in a million years, and he reflects on just how wrong they were.

Thinking of Encke and of what they have together makes Keeler’s chest knot in anticipation and sadness and emotions he can’t even begin to describe, and he finds himself forgetting that he’s in the shower with the water beating hard and fast around him. His forehead hits the cold surface of the shower and a tear slides down his face. It takes him a moment to even realize he’s crying, the feeling of water on his face not unfamiliar due to the heavy stream of water around him and the hot steam nearly suffocating him. The moment it hits him though, and he feels his throat tighten as more tears threaten to come, he completely breaks down.

Keeler’s never lost it like this before, especially not before a mission, but this is different. This time, he knows he won’t be returning to a happy homecoming, he knows he won’t be able to massage his lover’s tense, aching muscles afterwards. Sobs rack his body and he pounds the wall of the shower with pent-up frustration. It’s not fair. Nothing is.

He doesn’t hear the door to the bathroom open with its usual electronic click, doesn’t hear the sound of soft footsteps enter the room or the sound of clothes being removed. Keeler only realizes that Encke is in the room when large, warm arms wrap around his quivering shoulders. The movement takes him by surprise, but he doesn’t show it.

“Heard you cryin’, babe.”

And with the knowledge that Encke has seen his weakness, Keeler knows he’s brought them both down. They can’t function as a team at their best when one of them is as high-strung as the navigator is. Even if Keeler was to make a full recovery right that instant, he knows Encke well enough to know that the fighter would be worrying during the entire mission. He would probably, though he would never admit it, let his fear for Keeler’s emotional well-being come before the priorities of the mission, and that would just not do. Now that Encke’s seen, it’s all over. If they were going to survive before, they certainly aren’t going to now, and that thought alone wracks Keeler’s body with a whole new wave of sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he begins muttering over and over, not even sure if Encke can hear him over the sound of the water. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ve ruined everything, now, and I’m sorry. We’re going to die, and it’s my—“

Encke is usually careful with Keeler, too careful, almost, as if the fighter is afraid to break his favorite possession. But for once, the larger man doesn’t worry about the effects of his force, and he whips Keeler around to face him with a strength almost brutal.

“Stop it, Keeler! Right now! I swear if you don’t shut up, I’ll break your fucking arm!”

They both know Encke’s threat is any empty one, but it works anyway.

Keeler stops everything at once. He stops apologizing, he stops shaking, he almost stops crying as the last remaining echoes of Encke’s booming voice die out. There’s silence for a moment, nothing but the metallic sound of water pelting against the shower walls again and again. The steam is gone—the water has long since gone cold—and they can see each other clearly now. The tension between them is unbelievable, simultaneously heated and frigid.

Keeler’s the one to break the silence, letting his head fall forward onto Encke’s chest. He feels empty now, after his outburst, and even if he wanted them to he’s not sure if any more tears could come. He feels Encke’s massive chest rise and fall in a tired sigh as he tightens his arms around his navigator in a silent apology.

It doesn’t matter that the water is cold now or that they’re going to be late for their final briefing before their invasion. To Keeler and Encke, there might as well have been nothing except them and the beating of their hearts as one. But they have to return to reality at some point, and Keeler knows that. He shakes his head back and forth slowly, his wet and tangled strands of hair knotting against Encke’s skin.

“Don’t you ever get scared, Encke?”

The words are barely spoken, hardly even whispered, but they’re clear, and they almost break the fighter’s heart. He’s not sure how to respond, because the obvious answer is yes. Or is it? As a fighter, is he even human anymore? _Does_ he feel emotion during times such as this? He’s never even thought about it before, because fighters aren’t trained to think, after all. They’re trained to do exactly as their name implies, and nothing else. They’re trained to be successful in battle and to work with their navigators to bring victory to the Alliance. They’re trained to be violent machines with a bloodlust for the blood of others, not to have petty emotions like attraction for others and fear. Those things are irrelevant.

But are they for Encke?

“I don’t know,” he answers dumbly, fully aware that it’s far from the response his beloved navigator was looking for.

Keeler’s silence speaks volumes, and Encke revises his answer.

“I know I get scared for you, though.”

The long-haired man tears away from Encke’s grasp and slams the knob to turn off the water. Encke’s made another wrong move.

“I can take care of myself!” Keeler argues. The sentence comes out louder and more hostile than he meant for it to, and he immediately bites his tongue. “I just mean that I’d rather you focus on what you have to do for this assignment instead of focusing any of your energy on me when it’s not necessary. You’ll put us in danger that way, putting concern for me before your tasks—“

“You’re startin’ to sound like our commanders, Keeler.”

Keeler’s head whips around, and with it his mess of platinum hair that sprays water droplets across the room with its movement. “And what if I am? Isn’t it about time that we take this seriously? We’re going to die. You know that. We might as well try and make ourselves look capable before we get blown into oblivion.” He doesn’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. In fact, they make him sick. What’s gotten into him?

Encke shakes his head, also in disbelief. “This isn’t like you. I want Keeler back before this battle, not this uptight, inhuman whatever-you’re-becoming. My navigator is the only one I’m going to fight beside, today, so you’d better make sure he comes back before we fly out.”

His lover’s words sting, but they serve to bring some sense back into the high-strung navigator’s head. He wishes he had time to apologize properly, but he’s already rushing to grab a towel and get himself dried off so he can look presentable before making his final appearance before the navigators below him. He has to look his best, has to look cheerful and encouraging, and being late will be the last thing the rest of the teams need. It all seems pointless though, and Keeler’s so tired of being there for others when he can barely even hold _himself_ together.

“Encke, I’m—“

Like always, Encke has read his mind, and when Keeler turns around to mutter out some meager apology a finger meets his soft lips to silence him.

“Hush, Keeler, I know. Leave the apologizin’ alone, it won’t get you anywhere at a time like this.”

They allow each other a moment to stare into one another’s eyes, and they find strength in each other’s gaze. It’s always been like this—there’s always been a mutual understanding between them for nearly as long as they’ve been partnered, and that unspoken feeling has always been enough to get them through the hardest of times in this war. Now is no exception, and in an instant, Encke can see the look in Keeler’s eyes turn from dread to determination, from fear to confidence. But what’s more is that there’s love and compassion in that gaze the likes of which Encke has never seen, and he knows that it’s all for him.

Their lips meet in a gentle caress of a kiss before either of them knows what’s happening. Keeler stands on his tiptoes to wrap his thin arms around Encke’s neck, and he finds himself pressed into Encke’s muscular body in the most comforting of embraces.

Encke starts to deepen the kiss, tries to pry Keeler’s lips open with the tip of this tongue, but the navigator will have none of it. He pulls himself away with ease, sliding out of his fighter’s arms in what seems to be a practiced movement, and sends a sly look back at Encke over his shoulder.

“Now, now,” he teases with a wag of his finger and a curl of his lips. “We don’t have time for that. Besides, we’ve got to leave something for when we get back, right?”

Encke blinks, his lips still parted with surprise, but he can’t help but smile at Keeler’s sudden, complete turnaround. That was the Keeler he knew; his navigator was returning.

“Took ya long enough.”

“Long enough to what?”

“Stop bein’ all like that,” Encke says, gesturing broadly to the shower to indicate what had happened within it.

Keeler grins a teasing smile. “All like what?”

Encke takes the hint that he isn’t to talk about it anymore.

“If you don’t hurry up and dry off, Encke, we’ll be late for our briefings. And we can’t have that, now can we?”


End file.
